Paralyzed
by A.Boleyn
Summary: [DL] One city. One storm. Two people.


**Note: ** My first one-shot in quite some time; this was the result of being snowed in today. This is not quite smut - actually I refer to it as "semi-smut". This is just one of countless plot bunnies that exist in my head - it's beginning to look like Watership Down.

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own the characters of Danny and Lindsay, but my imagination enjoys making use of them frequently.

* * *

**Paralyzed**

"Nothing's moving. Nothing at all."

Lindsay tugged her sweater sleeve over her fist, then wiped the fog from her third-story apartment window. The world below was covered in an ice-crusted layer of white that grew thicker by the hour. Pedestrians were noticeably absent, as was the steady parade of traffic that was so typical of the city. Everything was frozen.

"You had this all planned, didn't you?" Danny came up behind her, his voice full of lighthearted accusations, and still husky from sleep. He handed her a mug of freshly brewed coffee. "Very sneaky, Montana."

She smiled innocently. "Had what planned? The snow? You think I put in a request for a blizzard with the man upstairs?"

"It's why you wanted me to stay over last night," he murmured, sliding one arm around her waist and pulling her back firmly against him. "You knew I'd end up stuck here."

She shivered with joy as his bristly, unshaven chin began to move in an achingly slow trail from the tip of her shoulder, across her collarbones, to the base of her neck and then up. The coffee, forgotten now, sat untouched on the windowsill.

"And you're complaining?" she asked wryly, tilting her head to allow his lips full access to precisely the right spots.

"Hardly," he purred, his mouth now centimeters from her ear. "I'm complimenting your ability to forecast. You're quite the little meteorologist." His hands moved down to cup her hip bones, then began rubbing them in smooth, slow circles. "What else do you predict for this day, Ms. Monroe?"

Lindsay sighed as the familiar sensation washed over her; the one where she yielded all of her self-control, happily allowing Danny to possess her.

"There's a… warm front moving in… it's going to be downright steamy." It was hardly a wild guess, judging from her own reaction to Danny's touch. She jumped slightly when he kissed her behind the ear – _the_ spot, that tender area of vulnerability he so often used to his advantage.

Enjoying the moment of just touching and sighing, they both gazed out the window onto the winter-sprinkled streets below. The snowstorm was so significant, it had shut down the entire law enforcement bureau – the lab included.

"Mac said no one would even commit murder on a day like this," she remarked. "Though, I have to wonder about all those old married couples who will be trapped in together. Cabin fever, you know."

"Give those old married people some credit," Danny pointed out. "I bet they have experience; some ideas on how to pass the time."

"Speaking of which, what are _we_ going to do all day?" she asked playfully, reaching behind her and running her pinky finger back and forth between the waistband of Danny's pants and his firm, warm stomach. She leaned her head back against his shoulder so she could see his face, watch his fiery reaction. They heat they were generating was enough to create steam on the windowpane.

His voice was now so throaty she could hardly hear it. "Bed," he groaned.

The pinky was replaced by her entire left hand, a feather-light touch moving tantalizingly slow. She continued to tease, knowing that before long, she would be completely at his mercy. "I'm not tired, silly. We just woke up."

"_Bed_. Not _sleep_," Danny hissed. In a flash, one of his strong arms went under her knees, the other around her side, lifting her up and against his chest. She laughed at the glorious feel of surrendering to him, being powerless to his appetites.

They were back in the bedroom in seconds. He deposited her roughly onto the unmade bed, then slid down over her.

"Can we stay here all day?" he begged, like a child requesting a much-wanted toy.

But Lindsay was not done playing with him yet. "That could get boring," she replied, stifling a giggle as she tried to slip out from under the weight of him. "What could we possibly _do_ in bed all day?"

Danny grasped her waist, tugging her back under his body, under his control. "I've got some ideas."

He yanked the covers over their bodies, and all clothing was shed. The snow beyond the window caused the gray morning to appear lighter than it truly was. The dark of Lindsay's bedroom was a sharp contrast, as was the blackness that surrounded them under the sheets and blankets. Upon removal, her tank top twisted itself around her wrist, and the leg of her pants did not slip free of her ankle, but she didn't notice. The only thing she was capable of feeling was Danny against her: the hair of his chest serving as thousands of tiny electrodes, providing the sweetest jolts, his skin not as smooth as hers, but not quite rough, either.

She could do nothing, she was powerless, lying so still she hardly dared to breathe. His lips were like a match, blown out but still hot to the touch and smoldering. He pressed them against her skin on random spots; she never quite knew where that scintillating burn would hit next. Initially, she resisted making any sounds, not wanting to interrupt the lovely rustling of sheets and brushing of skin. But when Danny's hands began to follow the lead of his mouth, she thought _"the hell with it!"_, and released the gasps and tiny cries that formed on her lips. Her body was no longer her own, but his – his instrument of delicious torture. The sounds the two of them created were music, indeed.

Before long, he lowered himself over her, their bodies flush and even. He was simply unable to continue his pursuit of pleasing only her, now he needed it in return. His lips crashed over hers, muffling any further sounds the two of them made. He was over her, within her, surrounding her, filling her. This was where she belonged.

As Danny worked his magic, about to bury them both in an avalanche of elation, Lindsay was vaguely aware of the snow piling on the outer sill of her bedroom window. Something inside of her, too, was building and growing, demanding and intense, covering anything in its path.

And when their private storm was over, having passed in a flurry of trembling limbs and whispered pleas, they lay entwined, grateful for the warmth and shelter of each other. Much like the powerless city outside, Lindsay did not stir, her heaving chest the only sign of life within her. Too weak to even move her head, she shifted her eyes towards the man next to her. Their passion would wane and grow throughout each day, but his grip on her heart was constant and unrelenting. As always, and much to her delight, Danny left her frozen in awe.

Paralyzed.


End file.
